Listen to Your Heart
by xPrincessxAlakayxLionessx
Summary: Ratatouille. Remy is gaining feelings that he can't get rid of, and finds that what he is searching for is strong. RemyxLinguini
1. Within Remy

_Ok, so I'm here drinking Pepsi and listening to Three Days Grace and other artists on my ipod, and here I am, finally deciding to write my first Ratatouille fanfiction. I recently became a fan of the movie, and I know I'm a geek but who cares? I love it, and though I'm straight, I like gay couples, too, they're awesome, so if you have a problem, tough._

* * *

Moonlight shone through the glass-stained window of the large house in the middle of Paris. That meant another endless night for Remy. He had been adjusting to the new home that he, Linguini, and Colette in to together, and had been used to the smells of the new restaurant that they opened: The Ratatouille. Sure, Remy had been used to the surroundings and living among more humans than he ever did, and his father's clan was well proud of him, for they gotten to eat good food, better than the wasted garbage that could possibly be toxic.

The one problem about living with humans is that he could fully understand their language, but they couldn't understand the rats. He had been making full progress at preparing food and knowing what tastes right and what doesn't, and he was proud of it, having the feeling that he had lived up to his dream, like Gusteau did. The kitchen smelled of vegetables and grains and the meat was as tender as leather, food seemed just about right to serve, but something was missing. _Is it rosemary or maybe that cheese I tried the other day_? Remy thought. _No, that's not it; it has to be something missing though._ He looked around, and found Alfredo Linguini patting a kiss on Colette's cheek while she was stirring a bowl of freshly mushroom soup. The aroma of the soup was delightful, but that wasn't it. There was a suspicious perhaps a rather deep look in Remy's brown eyes as he stared at the couple. _That's what's missing_, he told himself. As Alfredo and Colette turned around, Remy quickly scampered down the counter towards a pot of vegetable soup. _Gosh, there's so much food here, why am I thinking that? _Remy then thought.

Remy then scurried over to the window, and he found the sun completely over the horizon, with the moon hanging high in the sky, with a family of stars sparkling as glitter and a pattern of wild dark colors in the sky. He then turned around, and before him was the ghost of Gusteau.

"Must be really lonely here, here let me keep you company," said Gusteau.

"Thanks," replied Remy. "I don't know what's going on with me, I mean, I want Linguini to be happy but I also want to be happy."

"Oh, so what are you saying?"

"I don't know, I just-I could…I could be having this feeling that I just can't get out, and its aching bad."

"Oh, so you have feelings for my son?"

"I must be talking crazy talk, I mean I'm a rat and he's what, a human?"

"Well who knows? He might get an interest. He does have Colette that he cares about, maybe you're also on his mind, you never know."

"Might work, but nobody care about rats," Remy sighed.

"You're being unfair to yourself now," Gusteau intoned. "You have this entire restaurant, and you have my son and his girlfriend, and you'll always have your family clan and me."

"But see, you're a fragment of my imagination, how could I possibly have you by my side?"

"Because I care about you, come on now, just hang on and see what my son thinks."

"Ok."

Gusteau then disappeared from sight, leaving Remy watching Alfredo and Colette hugging each other while rushing to the bathroom. The rat knew something was with them; it was love of course, something that he always wanted, something that made him feel stronger. He wished for the specter of Gusteau to return, but he knew now he was better off cooking until he found some form of communication between him and Alfredo.


	2. Nightmares

Being home was at least the best thing at night for Remy when he was exhausted from cooking so he can relax, and sleep deeply into his dreams. He wanted to rest, and think about what Gusteau said about his feelings for Alfredo. He hoped that eventually he would discover some form of communication between him and a human but it would have to wait for awhile. His optimistic expression spread as he looked at the bed next to his small bed where Colette and Alfredo held each other in their arms while sleeping deeply into the night. Remy then turned to the window once again, and stared at the entire view of Paris, his home, the place in which his heart belonged in. But he still wanted to share his heart with Alfredo. _If only I was human_, he thought.

His thought, however, drifted him into slumber, his eyes sealed, while breathing deeply. Remy then found himself in a kitchen, lights brightly shining, that was stinging his eyes. He watched the entire kitchen surrounding him like a twirling whirlwind in his head. _What's happening to me? _Remy wondered. He then smelled something strong, almost like that of death. Remy's mind was then replaced with that of fear as the smell led him closer, until he found a body on the floor. It was recognizable, for it was a redheaded young man with a pan held in his hand. His chest was moving slowly, and he was gasping for air. Blood was streaming down his chest, and Remy noticed a chef's knife held clean in his chest.

"Oh my god, Linguini!" he cried. Then all Linguini could hear was a series of squeaking.

Immediately, Remy scurried over to him, running up his chest. "Little…chef," Linguini whispered. "I'm sorry."

"If only you could hear my real words, but you have no need to be sorry," said Remy.

"I…I know you're trying to say something but I can't hear…" said Linguini, shivering.

Remy lifted up the knife, which gave his arms a sharp pain, as he lifted the knife out of his friend's chest, and threw it out across the room, blood trailing with it. At any attempt, the little chef wished for his good friend to survive the wound. He then started licking his chest to clean off the bloody mess. Rats are naturally known as pests and filthy as most say, but Remy was normally clean, but he decided to clean Linguini because he of course, loved him, though Linguini didn't know it. Alfredo's chest continues to bleed slowly, as Remy battled to clean him good.

Remy then stared in the dying man's eyes, and said, "I'm going to find some help. You stay right here, and don't leave me behind, please."

Alfredo gave a confused expression, and said, "I can't tell what you're saying, but I understand you're trying to help me…I won't go anywhere…little chef."

Remy gave a doleful nod, and scurried down Linguini's dying body, and across the floor, as quickly as possible to find Colette or at least someone who would be able to call emergency or someone who can help him save him. The feeling kept getting worse by the moment, Remy's heart began to pound, for the smell of the blood was strong, but there was something else he scented that was powerfully deadly and strong, the fear for his own life.

Remy then heard footsteps coming closer to him. "Who's there?" he called.

He turned around to find a man, about half as tall as Linguini and Colette, standing with a knife in his hand. As Remy turned to run, the man threw the knife out, landing on Remy's tail, stopping him with a sharpened pain. Remy couldn't move, for all he knew that part of his tail would then be missing if he dared moved.

Frightened, he looked up at the menace. "Skinner?"

"Little pest, what is it like losing your friend, your master chef? Oh that's' right, you're his master, I forget."

"You…bastard," muttered Remy under in breath.

"Squeak all you want, rodent, but your days are over and so are your friends," Skinner said in an eerie voice.

"You keep away from Linguini!" yelled Remy.

"Stop squeaking for once!" Skinner shouted. "I can't tell why you do this, are you literally mocking me or something? Or am I too stupid to know?"

"As a matter of fact, you are," said Remy.

"You're about to face your last breath, pest."

"Kill me if you want, but keep away from Linguini. He did nothing to deserve his last moments. I love him."

This gave Remy the chance to think two things that were on his mind-love and death.

Skinner then took the knife from Remy's tail, and grabbed the rat immediately before he could possibly escape and held him in his hand. He then held the knife closer to Remy's back, and gave a quick small stab. Remy then screamed, and was breathing heavily while staring heavily and angrily at Skinner.

"You bastard!" yelled Remy. "You bastard!"

Skinner then held the knife above Remy's chest, and then pierced it to his death. Remy felt himself numb, and the next thing he knew, he woke up from his haunted nightmare.


	3. Somebody Help Remy

So I decided to make this chapter a bit shorter than the other chapters, but this time Remy is going through the support he gets, and poor Remy, I felt bad that I made him haunted by his nightmares. Lately, I've been addicted to a song called "Somebody Help Me" by Full Blown Rose, and I think it can somehow relate to how Remy feels after his nightmare. Anyway, enjoy my chapter. I'll be writing more!

* * *

It was still in the dim of the night when Remy was patting for air, hypnotized by his nightmare. He looked, and found that Linguini and Colette were asleep together in bed. He was relieved to find himself and his dear friend alive and well out of Skinner's reach, but the possessed-minded dream was too haunting that Remy was afraid to dare fall back asleep. All he could picture was Skinner slashing his knife around causing the scent of blood to accord. Small footsteps approached the shelf by the window, and were climbed up closer towards Remy. Remy's stomach curled numb, and he almost froze by the smell of footsteps, hoping it wasn't Skinner. To be surprised, it was only his brother, Emile, and his father, Django.

"Hi, Remy," said Emile. "How come you can't sleep?"

"Yeah, what's the matter, son? Something bugging you?" asked Django.

"Well…I…" muttered Remy.

"You don't have to say it if you don't want to," encouraged Django. "We just want to help you."

It seemed pointless to Remy to try to figure out how the heck he could possibly explain his nightmare. _They probably won't understand,_ Remy thought to himself, and sighed. Every second he tried to think, he couldn't help thinking how forsaken it would be to reveal the truth to his own family, his feelings for Linguini, for no rat could understand any possible love for a human that could probably never be. His brown chocolate-coated eyes stared at his parents, as he tried to speak but finally decided to.

"I had a nightmare," was all he could say.

Both Django and Emile were surprised. "What kind of nightmare, son?" asked Django.

Remy sighed again. "Skinner."

"Oh, Skinner, the chef that was after you and Linguini is in your dream?" Emile exclaimed. "I never thought of that before."

"It was terrible," explained Remy. "I merely thought that I would never dream this but I did. I was in the kitchen at night when the restaurant was closed, and I could smell…blood. I followed the smell and found Linguini with a knife in his chest, the scariest thing I've seen. I tried to clean him, and save him, and I tried looking for help, and the Skinner came along, and stabbed me clean to the floor. I tried to escape, but the pain was too much for me. He then picked me up, and stabbed me in the back and then stabbed me in my heart, and then all of the sudden I woke up from darkness, and here I am, telling you this. It's about time I rethink my nightmares, if I ever can."

"Oh brother, I'm sorry," said Emile.

"This nightmare might be hard to erase," said Django. "Some nightmares attach to you for a long time, perhaps for the rest of your life."

"As long as nothing happens, I'm sure my dream will be nothing in any time," said Remy. "But then again, I'm not sure."

"Hey, kiddo, we're here to help you in every way we can, and anytime you need us, we'll be here for you," said Django.

"Thank you," Remy replied, tiredly, then giving his dad and Emile each a hug.

"No problem, buddy," said Emile.

"Well, we better get going to sleep ourselves, and Remy, you too, get some good night's rest," said Django. "You'll be just as busy tomorrow as any other day."

"Yeah, it's typical," said Remy, rubbing the back of his head.

"G'night, Remy!" said Emile, turning away.

"Good night, Remy, we love you," said Django.

"Good night, and I will always love you, too," said Remy, waving.

Remy watched as his father and brother disappeared into the darkness, leaving him along to the view he turned to of the beauty of Parisian lights and the Eiffel Tower that stood tall and strong. He then climbed into his bed, and snuggled under the covers, despite the dream he had, he was proud to have family and friend to support him. Though to him, it seemed like the humans and rats were all like a family to him. Which would he choose? Both. He then sealed his eyes, and drifted into a sweet slumber, trying to forget the nightmares, and hope for a day to spend cooking with humans and for the humans and of course his family. He knew his family had always been there for him, and so he continued to sleep without a distraction until the morning sun would rise.


	4. Suggestions

Ok, so I'm planning on writing my chapters more longer even though this one was short like the previous chapters. Good news is, I saw The Water Horse, Alvin and the Chipmunks, and National Treasure: Book of Secrets recently in theaters. The Water Horse was ok, but the other two I couldn't resist adding them to my favorite movies, and I'm going to have to write some National Treasure fanfiction one of these days. Anyway, I'm getting my blood drawen so that must be fun, lol. Oh, and hopefully Remy is cooking well, too, after all I'll be doing more updates in the future.

* * *

Remy wondered why Linguini would compliment to his family and Colette about Remy's talent, but he would always see everyday in his eyes that it could be either important or not. The new day arose, and as Remy woke up, he thought about why Linguini talk about him in front of his own family, of course he could communicate with Colette, after all, of course she's just as human as he is, but the rats could understand, but they had no way of communicating in return, without series of squeaking. The sun shone in the little chef's eyes, as he saw the morning sun rising above the view of all of the Parisian surroundings in the outdoors. He figured it was just going to be another ordinary day of looking in La Ratatouille, cooking for humans, and of course his family. He was glad that his family didn't need to depend on garbage anymore, which was the many of all things he mostly despised. 

"Another day…it looks like another day of cooking I guess," Remy said to himself.

He turned towards the human bed, and noticed that Linguini and Colette were still asleep, snuggling in each other's arms. _If only that was me_, thought Remy, jealously. He then climbed out of bed, and scurried down the wall, trying to slide, but not fall, and hurried for the refrigerator. _Perhaps some breakfast would do for me and my friends_, he figured. He lifted the edge of the fridge, and opened it, eventually then taking the longest time as he knew, gathering out the eggs, the milk (which he tried not to spill), the sausage, and the rosemary to add some flavor. About twenty minutes later, the delicious smell of food from the kitchen woke Linguini up. _It's the little chef again_, he figured. He got up and slowly walked over, finding Remy stirring the meal that was being prepared on the pan. On the counter nearby the pan, were two large sized plates and a small plate for himself that Linguini purchased him awhile ago.

"Morning, little chef," said Linguini. "Looks like a good breakfast you're making there." He then noticed the three plates.

Remy lifted up the egg, and put one side of it on Linguini's plate, then on Colette's, and then giving himself miniature amounts of the last remains. He then looked up, and found Colette yawning while walking behind Linguini.

"Oh…" she yawned. 'What's that smell?"

Linguini turned around, and said, "Oh…haha…that's the breakfast our little chef made us."

"Oh," she said, looking at Remy, "good morning, little chef. You must have been quite busy this morning." Remy nodded in reply.

"Well," she said, taking her plate, "you should probably stop cooking for us, not to be rude, friend, but you should consider letting yourself rest more."

"But when will be a good time for him to rest?" Linguini asked. "I mean, we ought to find a good time, sometime after time?"

Colette huffed, and shook her head. Even though she and Alfredo had a good relationship, she still couldn't stand his stupidity, as she would always put it as. Sometimes she would be confused of what even her boyfriend was saying; she didn't even know when they were going to get married.

"So, little chef," Colette said to Remy, trying to ignore her thoughts on her boyfriend, "are you looking forward to today? It's going to be awfully busy if you ask me." Turning to Linguini, she then said, "And for your information, you help the little chef out a lot more? I mean how often does he rest? Whenever he sees his family, and he's constantly busy as a bee and he's no more, but a rat."

"You do have a good point," says Linguini, chuckling.

"And though he has a family, we don't know his true name? I mean, is he always called 'little chef' or is he called something else by his family, I mean, what Scott? George? What is his name?"

"Look, perhaps if we ask him but then again he wouldn't say anything for rats doesn't talk."

"But what if he knows something we don't? What if he knows his name? What if rats can talk, but can't communicate with us people? Don't you ever think of that?"

"If only he could…"

"Agh! You don't know what you're thinking!" Colette yelled. "That rat is a living organism; so that means a living organism can have its own communication, but you never consider even thinking about how he cooks. Rats have knowledge, and so do all animals, we just don't believe. I, however, believe that your chef has known something none of us did, and that's how we built La Ratatouille!"

"I'm sorry, dear, but yes, he is a rat of course, and we must respect their boundaries and their behaviors," agreed Alfredo.

Remy just shook his head, and lifted his small doll-sized fork to take a bite out of his egg. Linguini and Colette just looked at each other, and shrugged, then turning to their breakfast. Remy soundly while silently ate when he noticed his friends taking their plates to the table, then suddenly, Linguini takes Remy and his plate and puts them on the table next to Linguini's plate, in the place, where he sat between Remy and Colette. Although Remy always had to sit on the table to enjoy his satisfying meal, he didn't mind, but he never thought of what it would be like sitting in a chair, perhaps being someone more human? _Oh well_, Remy thought, as he started eating.

Colette then started talking again. "So, Linguini, so we suppose that we get a food critic, who would it, is?"

"Ah…I don't…" mumbled Linguini.

"You don't know…umm…maybe if it was you," suggested Colette.

"Why?"

"I want you to do it for the little chef. I imagine you really hadn't eaten much of what that rat has cooked, now hadn't you?"

_Here it goes again_, Remy thought.


	5. The Truth

Ok, I finally got the final chapter done, and I apologize that all of my chapters are short . But oh well, I'll be writing more fanficition, hopefully something like National Treasure, Cars, Juno, or something. Oh and speaking of movies, I saw Juno on Saturday, February 16, and yesterday I saw The Spiderwick Chronicles. Also, my 17th birthday was February 7, and I got my hair cut, styled, and dyed with red velvet shreiks. I'll have to upload pics onto photobucket to reveal myself. Also, I've been reading Peter and the Starcatchers and they're good, and now I really like Paramore. Anyway, enjoy the final chapter!

* * *

As the kitchen smelled with the aromas of delicious foods being prepared, Remy was with his family in the room above the kitchen while waiting for Colette to give him the signal that it was time to cook. He glanced around the room, and he was surrounded by his entire family and friends, hundreds of tables filling the room. Of course, he was sitting with Django and Emile, as he usually would, and some of his other friends and family would be joining them. 

"So how's that human of yours?" one of the fatter rats asked.

Remy gritted his teeth. "He's fine, thank you."

He tried to slip into his embrace, but feeling rather aggravated was making him feel more difficult about talking about his human family, especially about Linguini. His eyes were pleading, but he couldn't tell his family the ultimate secret of his.

"So, Remy, have you seen Ego around lately?" asked one of the smaller rats.

"Well," Remy tried to say, "I don't really know honestly, but I'm sure one of these days he'll be here."

"He always wants you to surprise him, how do you feel about that?" asked one of the female rats.

"It's perfectly fine with me, after all, he means no harm, and of course he's just a friend, more than a customer."

"Do you think he'll come today?" an older rat asked.

"Anything's possible, you know," Remy chuckled.

Remy looked down, and then back up at his family, speechless of what to say next. It was that time in his mind that everything that was said and done, and that the restaurant was being as popular as the old Gusteau's, that the hard times would come immediately afterwards. He was still sure that his father, Emile, and everyone else was curious to hear of what else he had to say, but how could he explain about Linguini? He had feelings for him, but what would his family think? Would that mean he could have to leave the clan? Would that mean he wouldn't be allowed to work with Linguini and Colette again? Anything that was running through Remy's skull, he thought he may possibly happen.

"Remy," said Emile, "do you have anything to say, bro? Anything?"

"Well…I'm not sure," replied Remy.

"Don't you have to talk if you don't want to," said Django.

"I know you're trying to help me," said Remy.

"I know, son, I know."

"So anyway," continued Remy with his speech, "Colette and Linguini are doing just fine together, I don't know how long it'll last but for sure they're fine."

"And Colette was la chef that helped the boy?" one of the smaller rats asked.

"Yes, and without her, then we wouldn't have started La Ratatouille after Gusteau's closed down."

All of the sudden, the bell rung, and Remy stared down, and there was Colette, waving at him. "Gotta go," said Remy.

"Be sure to fetch me some cheese while at it!" called one of the smaller rats who waved at him.

One of the fatter rats slapped him, and he said, shrugging, "What?"

The day was quite a day for Remy of course, and when he and his human family arrived back home, he was exhausted. He hastily and desperately wanted to tell Linguini the truth, but he still wanted to figure out a way to communicate with him. On the table near the kitchen, there were a few pencils and some notepads lying around on the table. Curiously, he stared at them, and thought; _Hmmm…I'll show him_. He scurried down Linguini's body, and quickly rushed over to the table.

"What, what are you doing?" Linguini asked.

He walked over, and found his little chef with a pencil he was struggling to hold, for it was at least larger than his own thin body. Without a care, he put the pencil down, and took the tip off the pencil, and started writing. Linguini watched carefully as the rat wrote, and the writing revealed:

MY NAME IS REMY, AND I WAS AFRAID TO TELL YOU THIS, BUT I ADMIT IT, IT'S HARD TO COMMUNICATE WITH YOU HUMANS, KNOWING WELL HOW WE ARE KNOWN FOR. TO THEM, I'M A PEST, TO YOU, I'M YOUR FRIEND, AND TO ME, YOU'RE THE BESTEST FRIEND I'VE EVER HAD. I WAS AT FIRST SCARED TO TELL YOU THIS BECAUSE YOU MIGHT NOT UNDERSTAND, AMD NEITHER WOULD MY FAMILY, BUT I MUST CONFESS THAT I LOVE YOU, AND I WANT TO STAY WITH YOU FOREVER.

Linguini's eyes were widened as he read the entire letter, all written on one yellow sticky notepad. He couldn't believe it, he was in love with Colette, but this was something different. Something new he had before never experienced. He then let his hand out, and let Remy scurry into his hand, and took him over to the couch in the living room, and sat down, and held his little chef in his hands.

"I don't know how to say this…" said Linguini.

Remy just smiled, and squeaked, "Please, don't need to worry; you are the one who makes me smile."

"You made me stronger and happier that now I don't know…I love you…little chef…Remy."

Even though Remy knew Linguini couldn't hear the words he said, he said, "I love you, too."

* * *

I hope you liked it! Please review my story! 


End file.
